The ink hugs the pallour of her thighs
Breasts most lovely neck and regal crown.
To dance before the king,
Her eyes fix in a dead embrace
And snare her captive audience.

The envy of a greedy lust
And pride of slothful gluttonous
Return.
Paid in wrath;
A grizzly weight upon a silver platter

He cares not for her Seven Veils
(one for each his sin)

Three concerts (one o which is this evening), one take-home and one exam.

One week